This post contains a few links that are affiliates and many links that are not. In the midst of a full summer, I’m pausing on purpose to list some of my favorite things so far.

It happened again. I woke up this morning with a compulsion to write on the blog again like it’s 2009. This is not the first time that has happened. If there’s one thing I’ve learned after writing four books and over twelve years of blog posts it’s when you feel the compulsion to write something down, don’t fight it.

Just follow it.

The odd (and annoying) thing is, I don’t necessarily have anything worthwhile to share today which goes against everything I teach, believe, and basically live by. Have nothing to say? Wait. Listen. Stop wasting all the breath and words.

But something else I’m learning, and this is faint and small and let me assure you I’m giving it the side-eye, is maybe there’s still a place to shoot the breeze with each other and maybe it’s okay to do it online sometimes, too.

In the spirit of late June, here are ten things I helping me sabbath this summer even though probably these things are more like “taking small breaks” than sabbath, but I’m learning the difference and showing myself grace.

1. Looking through old photos.

When my schedule is full as it is right now, I take less photos. This might seem a strange thing to note, but taking simple photos brings me life. (I’m talking photos from my phone you guys, this is not a fancy thing I’m doing.)

Though I haven’t been taking as many this summer, I have been scrolling through some from summers past. These are from when John and I went to Italy in 2016 for the Tuscany Writer’s Retreat.

I saw someone’s before and after workout photos on Instagram recently and went temporarily insane and signed up for a free workout ebook regimen online, forgetting everything I’ve learned about myself.

I love yoga, zumba, and walking. Why do I, now and then, forget what I love and think I want to be Jillian Michaels real quick instead?

The work isn’t in finding a new workout routine so I can tone myself, the work is in remembering who I already am and doing the next right thing.

This morning, that meant a 15 minute yoga practice in my PJs before I took a shower.

3. Evening drives.

I did not understand the evening drive when I was a kid. Mom and Dad would ask me after dinner, Do you want to go for a ride?

I’d say, Where are you going?

And they’d be all, For a ride.

And I’d be, Yeah but where to?

And they’d be, For a ride.

And I’d roll my eyes and say no.

Now I realize they were probably glad for the time alone together on those warm, Indiana summer evenings, windows down, radio off. Boring bliss.

4. Planning to co-lead my first trip.

Over a year ago, my friend Tsh Oxenreider floated a crazy idea by me: I’m thinking of leading a trip to London next summer. Any interest in co-leading it with me?

5. Arugula.

All the arugula I’ve had this summer has been right on time. I eat it straight out of the bag like potato chips and I can’t quit. For salad inspiration, listen to The Lazy Genius Makes A Salad.

6. Making a list of books I want to read when grad school is over.

I still have 10 months left of school which means my reading queue is straight up full and assigned until then. But I’ve been making a list (and checking it twice) of the books I want to read after I graduate and the list is long and lovely, let me assure you.

I would list them here now, but I’m working on a book post for you because I have a lot of other things to do so writing on the blog has become Very Important And Exciting.

7. Bocce ball.

This caveman like game was a hit at the beach a few weeks ago and we just can’t quit it. We play in the front yard, the cul-de-sac grass, the neighbor’s front yard, basically any kind of yard. I don’t have one solitary photo of it, but if you don’t have a set here’s one on Amazon a lot like the one we have. This one has a measuring rope which we do not have but I think is remarkable and much more accurate than the janky way we have been doing it.

8. The shade of pink in my guest room.

We have a tiny guest room in the back of our house and it’s where I do any video stuff for my work or for school. Oprah used to say a room should “rise up to meet you” when you walk into it, and when this room is clean that’s the feeling I get.

If I have to work in summer, at least there’s pink.

Here’s a list of stuff in this photo that you might ask me about listed from most helpful to least helpful.

9. Palomino pencils.

I bought one of these pencils while we were in California and now I can’t read my school books without it. Maybe it’s the flat eraser? I don’t know, it just feels right in my hand.

10. The east coast beach.

It’s gentle and powerful and I learn something new every time I stand on this southern, east coast beach. What a gift to live a few hours away.

Well look at that. I had the compulsion to write and I feel completely satisfied now. You’re welcome (I’m sorry?) Would love to hear what your favorite things of summer are!

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Y’all. We have so much to talk about. A royal wedding, Yanny and Laurel, a springtime snow, what your future self needs, not to mention all the things you’ve learned this season. So let’s get to it!

Welcome to What We Learned, where we pause to reflect on the past season before we move ahead into the future. At the end of this post, you’re invited to link up to your own list of what you learned this quarter – be it silly, serious, sacred, or just plain useful. I like to share a mix of all of those.

If you’re visiting for the first time from my podcast The Next Right Thing, welcome! We do this every quarter and will share our next list (What We Learned in Summer) on Friday, August 31. Grab your free printable list here to help you keep track and plan to share with us then. Now you can also share your list on Instagram using #wwlcommunity.

Here are things I learned this spring in no particular order:

1. I don’t mind a March snow.

That’s easy for me to say because it’s rare here in North Carolina. But it snowed in the middle of March this year and I found myself thrilled as I watched it fall down fast out my window, one last quieting, a final hush before spring.

2. On Downton Abbey, they never washed their costumes.

So basically they stunk all the time. They did have removable patches in the armpits, but I don’t like to think about this and also could that possibly have helped? This is a random fact I can’t forget.

3. Of all the gradual things in this life, watching as your kids grow up is perhaps the most exceptional.

The girls start high school in the fall and it feels equally shocking and like the most normal thing in the world. I have surprised myself with my current lack of overwhelm at this new impending life stage. Let’s see if it lasts.

4. If there’s something I miss from the past, I can find ways to invite it back into my life.

5. Your future self needs you to plan things before you think you need them.

One of the reasons those “old days of blogging” were so great was because it was how I met some of my current closest friends. Shannan Martin and I have been getting together for a writing/working/eating/talking weekend for five years now. This one was the hardest to find a date that works but we did it anyway and I’m so glad.

6. When it doubt, take a walk.

Part two of that last one is Writing Day 1 in Chicago was a wash. It was our final day of our hope*writers launch so while I thought I could disconnect all day, that was unrealistic. I also just needed some time to settle in.

When I got back to my hotel room just before lunch, I was in a fantastic mood, ready to work. Sometimes it’s best to start first thing in the morning, but other times you need a little walk through the city to remember to see things from a new perspective.

7. “When the ego swells, the soul shrivels.”

Thank you, Dallas Willard, for these 7 words I’ll never forget.

8. If you have to decide between several things, pick what you like then see how it grows.

10. We’ve learned what level of distraction and obsession we can (or cannot?) endure.

You guys, we survived Yanny and Laurel and a Royal Wedding in the same week! I can’t believe the stock market didn’t crash or something. It’s a wonder we got any work done at all that week. I’m so proud of us.

***

I keep track of what I’m learning by using my seasonal reflection lists. You can get your own printable lists for tracking your reflections by signing up right here. If you’re new around here and want to know what, how, and tools to track what you’re learning, check out A New Page for Your Bullet Journal.

The internet tells us adults make over 30,000 decisions every day, but I would guess when we are in the midst of a major life transition — a job change, an engagement, a new house, a new baby, new school, injury or diagnosis, new responsibilities or even a crisis of faith — the number of new decisions goes up and the weight of the usual ones are even heavier.

If you are in a time of transition, you are a prime candidate for decision fatigue.

For anyone who needs to re-focus, to receive what this transition has to teach you, instead of running past it in excitement or running from it in fear, I give you this — A Soul Minimalist’s Guide for Starting Over.

1. Be a Beginner

When we talk about new beginnings, we usually frame the concept with phrases of hope like springtime, flowers blooming, a new love, a new start.

On a hard day, we encourage ourselves with tomorrow is a new day! Joy is going to come in the morning.

New beginnings are usually welcome. But being a beginner? Not so much.

We want our circumstances to change, to start again, to be brand new. But when they change, we often don’t give ourselves permission to be new within them.

All beginnings hold elements of both joy and heartbreak. When we enter a new beginning, we have generally also experienced some kind of ending which comes with layered emotions and experiences of grief, transition, and letting go.

And so I say all of this just to get us here: don’t be afraid to be a beginner. Be relentlessly kind to yourself.

Let yourself be a beginner and receive all the gifts beginning has to give.

2. Stop Collecting Gurus

One way I’ve discovered helps me live my life more fully is to take inventory when anxiety shows up. Rather than avoid it as I’m most prone to do, I choose instead to stop, to notice, and in this case, pay attention to the story my inbox was telling me.

When we’re confronted with starting over, it can be tempting to look outside of ourselves for confident voices to point the way for us. This isn’t a bad thing, but it can keep us from settling into ourselves and quiet enough to hear the voice of God.

Cleaning out my inbox one day, I realized I had emails from experts in all areas – online marketing, book launching, fashion, and de-cluttering. What I didn’t have was space to consider my next right thing.

It was obvious I had way too many gurus talking to me and if I wanted to get clarity, I needed to take a break from them.

3. Gather Co-Listeners

If you aren’t sure what to do next, maybe you need to gather some co-listeners.

This is different than collecting gurus. There’s something powerful about gathering people who know you well specifically for the purpose of listening, question asking, and reflection. At the very least, it will force you to do some deep thinking about the issue you’re trying to discern in this transition because you’ll want to be ready for the co-listeners questions and insights.

Knowing our Father, our friend Jesus, and the Holy Spirit who lives and dwells within us, my guess is that he isn’t so concerned with the outcome of our decision at least not in the same way we are.

But he would be delighted to know that the decision we are carrying is moving us toward community and not away from it, that it is leading us to depend on others more and not less, and that it is turning our face toward his with a posture of listening with the hopeful expectation of receiving an answer.

4. Pick What You Like

If you feel unsure in a new situation, overwhelm is usually not far behind.

When I stood in the middle of the garden center with one plant in my cart and not sure what to do next, I felt stuck and began to feel that familiar discouragement I get when confronted with a simple decision that has many options in an area where I don’t have a lot of confidence.

The discouragement barreled down fast. It was familiar, it was annoying, and it was kind of ridiculous.

What does it look like to just start or to start over, to take a next right step towards something we want even if we feel unsure? Maybe a good place to start is to simply pick what you like, then see how it grows.

“The beginning space was actually a holy space, not just a layover on my way to something better.”

–Leeana Tankersley, Begin Again

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Some writers write words that come off the page like two hands cupping your face, inviting you to slow, to focus, and to simply listen. Just slow and listen to this.

Hilary Yancey is one of those writers and she finally wrote a whole book. Here is a taste of her writing and then you can go put on your tennis shoes and run out to get her book. Or just go to Amazon Prime because you’re not an animal.

We were late to our eighteen-week ultrasound. Preston surprised me with a lunch date at a farm-to-table restaurant just outside Waco. I had been picking at my salad throughout, then picking at my dessert. Ever since the positive pregnancy test, ever since the scribbled note of “large baby for gestational age,” I had lived on a live wire of worry.

This ultrasound, which was the reason for the lunch, the reason for the celebrating, was full of fear. An ultrasound could declare that things hadn’t gone according to plan or it could bless us with uneventful normalcy, with everything as expected. I had worried for days that it would be the first, and as the ultrasound approached, I became convinced that something was wrong, that we would learn something terrible that Friday afternoon.

I sat sullenly at our celebration lunch, listlessly moving the lettuce around on my plate with my fork. Preston tried several times to ask me why I didn’t seem very peaceful or excited. He tried to remind me that we were seeing our child for the first time. Instead of answering his question, I picked a fight with him about the fact that we would be late right as the waitress brought over our check.

It was raining while we drove back, and I wasn’t dressed for it. My thin cotton skirt was covered in wet splotches. I pressed my hands against it, feeling my gooseflesh beneath.

We arrived and I was called back fairly quickly. Preston stood up to join me, but the nurse told him to wait, that they would “call Dad back later.” I followed the nurse back silently, holding my wallet in my hands because my skirt didn’t have any pockets. Once I was on the table, the technician started to swirl the transducer probe over my belly only to declare irritably that she couldn’t see much because my bladder was too full, and gestured to a bathroom across the narrow hallway.

I stood up and walked meekly to the bathroom. I was mad that I had been late, mad that I had tried so hard to drink the eight necessary glasses of water a day only to be told it was wrong. I am the kind of person who, upon deciding that she has just done the entire day wrong, cannot be persuaded otherwise. I had failed the morning; I had failed lunch with my husband; I had failed the ultrasound; I had failed this baby. I washed my hands and slunk back into the room.

The exam was completely silent. The technician commented only once, to express frustration that the baby moved so much that she was having trouble getting good pictures of the face. She sighed multiple times, tracing the same circles around and around, shifting in her chair. When she said that the baby was so active, I tried to smile. “That’s good, right?” She said nothing.

I continued to stare at the green and cream border on the walls. There was a large calendar just opposite the exam table, turned to the month of April. It was a calendar with platitudes written across a beautiful sunrise background, things like “Live, laugh, love” and “Every act of kindness grows the spirit and strengthens the soul,” things people put up on refurbished shiplap in their homes.

I read the words on the April graphic of a generic sunrise, or a sweetly blooming daffodil, and swallowed too loudly. I wondered if she could hear my heart beating against my bones. I wondered if she was judging me, my silence, my lack of questions or exclamations or rambunctious joy. I wondered if she had even registered my face before hunting for my child’s.

I prayed in that room, lying in that anxious horizontal position, my hands tickled by the paper they roll onto exam tables. God spoke one thing back, something I have forgotten until the writing of this book, something I proclaimed for a week or two, until the diagnosis, until the end and the beginning: “She can never tell you something about this person I do not already know.”

YOU GUYS.

I know it’s a cliff-hanger, I know. But this is an actual excerpt from Forgiving God: A Story of Faithand you need to get it right this minute so you can read her story.

Hilary Yancey loves good words, good questions, and sunny afternoons sitting on her front porch with a strong cup of tea. She and her husband, Preston, and their two children, Jack and Junia, live in Waco, Texas where Hilary is completing her Ph.D. in philosophy at Baylor University.

Her first book, Forgiving God: A Story of Faith is available wherever fine books are sold (Amazon, Barnes & Noble) – and you can hear Hilary read the audiobook, too!

P.S. After her son was born, Hilary posted this photo on her Instagram. I have never forgotten the stunning and compelling novel that her beautiful face expresses without saying a word. It is exquisite and sacred and I will never forget it.

This morning I woke up and was compelled to write a blog post like it’s 2009. But maybe that’s not quite right.

I’m convinced in the power of letting things go, of hushing up for a while, and giving not only our souls room to breathe, but our practices, too.

I haven’t written in a free-form kind of way in this space for a while, but there’s no need to go back in time to invite back into our lives what we loved about the past. We can do it now, in whatever way we like. We can do it in 2018, too.

I can’t fully account for the compulsion I woke up with to write here. Maybe it’s because I read Emily’s post about her family’s vacation the other day or maybe it’s because I’m a writer, after all, and a blog is still the best place to practice writing and see what connects, if you ask me.

It could also be that this week I’ve been combing through my iPhotos to delete duplicate, terrible, and oops images and in the process I watched my life scroll by in pixels and it reminded me of the old days of blogging where we shared the little things and the ridiculous things and sometimes the big things, too.

We still do that, I know. Just in different ways and different places (hello my beloved instagram! I see you and never plan to leave you.)

My compulsion to write a personal blog post this morning could also be because of this: it’s the end of April and the twins are in 8th grade and their little brother is in 5th grade and that means in the next few months, we will be transitioning from elementary school to middle school for him and from middle school to high school for them and I’m starting to feel some kind of way about that.

That was a four line run-on sentence and I don’t even care.

I started this blog before our youngest was born and having him go into middle school in the fall, well. It’s enough to force a mama to write on a blog again is what I’m saying.

So here I am and here you are and look at us! Writing and reading blogs still! Sometimes it’s good to do things just because you want to.

To be clear, not writing as often in this space is not a strategic decision for me. It’s just been a natural evolution of life, of simpler platforms, of easier ways to communicate with you, and of time.

Also, I’m in grad school, finishing up my second semester and preparing for summer term. Being a student again has a way of clearing the decks and honing in priorities, not to mention if I’m sitting down to write a thousand words, it’s going to be for a school assignment and not a blog post.

By the way, because I know some of you will ask, I wrote about my school decision here: How I Made A Hard Decision. If you’re curious, I’m getting my Masters in Christian Spiritual Formation and Leadership and I’ll be finished with it next spring.

So these are the days of required reading, of spiritual theology, of looking and re-looking at what I believe. With each new chapter, lecture, and conversation, I am more curious, more in awe of the mystery, more grateful for our friend Jesus, and more convinced than ever that His kingdom is strong and unshakeable – to borrow the phrase from my friend and teacher James Bryan Smith.

We spent countless hours building and re-building that space that we’ve run for two years and now in what will be our third year, we’ve caught a fresh vision for how we want to serve our writers and how the whole thing fits into our own unique calling and, though it takes up more time than ever and is fast becoming a huge part of my job, I’m grateful everyday I get to do it. What a gift.

Last week I traveled with John to California to serve at our friend Jamin Goggin’s church. We met Jamin two years ago when we traveled to Italy for the Tuscany Writer’s Retreat and had a near instant connection.

Here he is in one of my favorite photos from our week together, he and Jenni Burke (they led the trip together) serving the pool goers. Only in Italy.

So we had a connection and because of that, he invited me to come serve the women at his church last week, to lead them in retreat which now ranks up there as one of my most favorite events I’ve been a part of in recent years. But my point is, several California hope*writers drove hours to come to this retreat simply because I was going to be there.

I almost cried when I saw them – familiar, kind, writerly faces. These are my people and again, I’m grateful.

And so these are the days of probably working a little too much, of watching Cedar Cove on Netflix because it’s non-threatening and doesn’t make me think too much, of discovering Louise Penny books and Chief Inspector Armand Gamache.

These are the days of watching the new American Idol with the kids and remembering how much I love duets and seeing Katy Perry in a new kind of way that I like.

These are the days of almost seventeen years of marriage to John and how is it possible that I still learn new things about him and just want to spend all the time with him still? After all these years? May that never change.

These are also the days of discovering new apps for photos that help us time travel and manipulate space and erase the existence of people. For example, the photo above? Is a lie. The one below is the truth.

Tell me you see the difference. The app is called Retouch and it has powers is what I’m saying.

But back to the point. I have one. I think.

With all the transition in this space over the last twelve years, a few things remain solid.

I believe more than ever that I’m called to a ministry of listening which feels like a weird thing to say when I’m doing so much talking. But I continue to work to create space for your soul to breathe in whatever way will both serve you and sing well with my own current life stage.

For now, I do that through The Next Right Thing Podcast, instagram (and stories!), and my weekend email and monthly letter.

I can’t say for sure how I’ll continue to do that in the future, but I can say I’m sticking around to find out.

I still love photos.

I still love talking with writers about writing.

I still love writing words I can’t take back, discovering what I think about things by writing my way through it, and listening as a loving discipline for myself and others.

This is turning into a list post, isn’t it? I didn’t mean for that to happen. I have to save some things for our What We Learned link up at the end of May. We still do that, by the way – share what we learned at the end of each quarter.

But that was not my intention here. Instead, it was simply to say hello, to document a few things happening these days, and to give myself permission to write on a whim without an agenda.

Thank you for receiving the words and for always being a safe place to come back to. Would love to hear from you in the comments as proof that some people still read blogs!

But listen, if you are a forever lurker and only comment on Instagram or just don’t like commenting in general because it’s a pain, I’m here for that, too. We’re running an introvert friendly gig over here, lurkers welcome, no need to raise your hand.

If all you ever do is skim, nod, and go on your way, you’re always welcome back.

However you show up, I’ll take it. Thanks for doing the same for me.

P.S. Of course I still write regularly, just not always here. You can get my monthly letter by signing up below.

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I send out a secret letter to my readers one time a month. Want to get it?

I’m all about helping you create space for your soul to breathe, starting with your inbox. Over 33,000 people trust me with their email address. I will never send spam or photos of bare feet. You have my word on this.

But with the state of our soul and the pace of our lives, are we giving ourselves the room we need to make thoughtful decisions, much less ones that actually reflect who we are and what we feel called to?

We are finishing up this season of Lent and many people gave things up, the sugar, the Netflix, the small obsessions that hijack our focus and the larger ones that keep us numb and disengaged.

So in this season of giving things up, I wanted to enter the conversation with a question. What does it mean to let things go? Maybe not just for a season, maybe for good. What do we need to release?

For anyone who wants to uncover some of those things so that you can move forward in love, I give you this — A Soul Minimalist’s Guide to Letting Go.

Stop rushing clarity

For the last three years, I’ve had some ideas for a few projects. Some I’ve done and others I can’t quite move on yet. It’s not for lack of motivation or conviction that the thing ought to be done. But I’ve had this unequivocal sense that I need to wait like a hand is stretched out in front of me.

I’ve walked through all the familiar stages of new project things with this idea, the talking, the praying, brainstorming, writing down notes as ideas as they come, paying attention to the world around me and the world within me as it relates to the subject. But the progress doesn’t seem to come.

When the next steps are unclear, doubt is often the most logical conclusion. Maybe I don’t know how to hear God’s voice after all. Maybe all this is just my idea.

We can start down that road of doubt and questioning if we want to. But just because the doubts show up doesn’t meant you have to let them sit down. They won’t linger if they’re not welcome.

Stand on your head

One of the most unlikely practices that have helped me learn to release some things is by standing on my head. Not metaphorically, but actually, physically standing on my head.

I’ve been delightfully surprised at the simple lessons I’ve learned while physically practicing this inversion – but the truth is we can practice standing on our head even if we never get upside down. It’s all about perspective.

In my own personal practice of letting go this month, I’m realizing I need to let go of the version of myself who feels like she always has to be productive. Standing on my head keeps me playful, open, and light.

Remember the real art

Years ago, before the store was a store, she had a dream to create a place where they take the old, beautiful things, the wooden chairs and side tables and other broken pieces people tend to throw away, and give them new life. They wanted a place to do what they always did: make the used into art.

They had their last big mark-down sale and cleaned out the back rooms both the crannies as well as the nooks. Our community said goodbye to the little shop called Chartreuse.

I can see how that might seem like sad news, that our friends who had a dream have now closed down their shop. If you only looked from the outside, you might lose hope.

The art lives on because the true art was not the shop.

The real art isn’t a shop any more than it’s a song, a book, a painting, or a degree. The real art is something more, something deeper, something good.

When you hold your dreams with open hands, you let them breathe, grow, and have life. This can be scary because living things move, they change, and they take shapes we can’t predict or control. Instead of seeing it as a letting go, maybe instead it’s a making room. Let go of what no longer fits. Make room for something good.

Hold one thing at a time.

In my experience, a practical roadblock of doing the next thing in love is we are carrying too many things in the first place. What if we gave ourselves permission to hold just one thing at a time?

There is power in simplicity.

I am never more open to advice, to perspective, and to other people’s opinions than when I have a decision to make. I’m never more aware of my need for God, for hope, and for direction than when I have an unmade decision. I’m open, I’m ready, I’m listening for any clue as to what I should do next.

But often the clues remain within us, unheard and undiscovered. When we take the time to follow those clues we might find out things we are holding onto that we no longer need and what desires we might need to lean into and where we might need to let go?

Out of all the decisions in this world we have control over, there is definitely one whole category of our lives we can’t predict, manage, or bullet point.

No matter how organized we get, how much we plan, how prepared we are for what might come, one thing we can always count on is that the people in our life will surprise us, delight us, disappoint us, overwhelm us, or confuse us.

We can manage our time, our work, and our agendas but we cannot manage relationships. At least, not if we want them to be healthy.

How do we move forward in love? How can we discern a next right step with the people in our lives when they can be so unpredictable and. . . people-y?

For anyone who wants to remember some basic but often overlooked foundational truths about relating with people, I give you this — A Soul Minimalist’s Guide to Relationships.

Release your agenda.

Why is this one so simple and so hard!?

When one of our girls experienced a profound disappointment in her life (she was in fourth grade so gauge your imagination accordingly), I struggled as her mom to balance wanting to teach her a lesson and just wanting to be with her.

It’s true, learning is good and disappointments are an opportunity for growth. But I’ve grown weary of trying to squeeze a lesson out of everything, of always asking what God is trying to teach me in every circumstance, of seeing the world through lesson-colored glasses and forcing struggling people to do that, too.

Instead, when it comes to discerning your next right thing in relationships, releasing your agenda is a good place to start.

Let’s practice walking into the great mystery of God. Let’s practice encountering Jesus as a person and not a character. Let’s practice releasing our agenda to perform, perfect, and prioritize. Let’s live this day as a daughter first and allow the student to tag along behind.

Look for arrows, not answers.

So often, the questions we have in life that give us trouble aren’t the daily ones like what to wear, what to eat, when to mow the grass (although these can become burdensome if we’re already struggling with decision fatigue).

In my experience, the situations where I most desperately want an answer are the ones that are the hardest to find. These usually have to do with things like faith, vocation, and relationships.

My husband John and I went through a vocational transition about five years ago. No only did we not have answers, every question we asked seemed to birth more questions. What we discovered over that several year-long transition was we were looking for the wrong thing.

Rather than a specific plan, God offered us his hand and led us not to clear answers but simply back to one another. It was one of the most life-changing periods of our lives and it didn’t come from a five step agenda but from listening and looking for arrows to our next right step.

“Sometimes the circumstances at hand force us to be braver than we actually are, and so we knock on doors and ask for assistance. Sometimes not having any idea where we’re going works out better than we could possibly have imagined.” — Ann Patchett, What Now?

Come home to yourself.

As difficult as it may be to admit, sometimes it’s easier to focus on every relationship except the one I’m guaranteed to have for the rest of my living life – the one between me and myself. It doesn’t seem right since we are already so good at thinking of ourselves first, wondering what people are thinking of us, and basically being our own point of reference in all situations.

Maybe relief from selfishness won’t be found in denying ourselves the way we tend to think of it, but to finally become ourselves the way we were intended to be. Not the false, try-hard, self-referential version, but the true, free self who is created in the image of God.

The only person you’re guaranteed to be with every day of your life is you. So maybe it’s time to make some peace. You don’t have to fly apart in the midst of chaos. You can learn to sit down on the inside and be at home with yourself instead.

“It’s a wild and wonderful thing to bump into someone and realize it’s you.”

Choose connection.

When it comes to relating with people, whether it’s family or strangers, how we enter a room can mean the difference between connecting with them or comparing ourselves to them. If I walk in and immediately wonder, What are they thinking of me? then I have automatically made comparison a top priority.

Contrary to what we often say about connection and chemistry, the truth is connection doesn’t normally just happen. We have to actively choose to set aside our own insecurities and move toward people without an agenda or a measuring stick.

Welcome to What We Learned, where we pause to reflect on the past season before we move ahead into the future. At the end of this post, you’re invited to link up to your own list of what you learned this quarter – be it silly, serious, sacred, or just plain useful. I like to share a mix of all of those.

If you’re visiting for the first time from my podcast The Next Right Thing, welcome! We do this every quarter and will share our next list (What We Learned in Spring) on Thursday May 31. Grab your free printable list here to help you keep track and plan to share with us then. Now you can also share your list on Instagram using #wwlcommunity.

Here are things I learned this winter in no particular order:

1. Leah Remini auditioned for the role of Monica Gellar on Friends.

I’m listening to Leah’s memoir Troublemaker on audible right now (and, side note, I feel like I could rock a Brooklyn accent after spending hours listening to her). She talks about how she got into (and eventually out of) Scientology and it is fascinating.

But she also shares a lot about her work as an actress and said when she didn’t get the part of Monica, she was devastated because she knew that show was going to be huge. Of course she was right.

2. Every now and then, friendship has a red letter day. But that’s not the norm.

Speaking of Friends, I went to college with these girls and our small group met on Thursday nights. We would talk about Jesus and pray and laugh. But some weeks we would skip all that and just watch Friends. (Because Thursday night at 8pm).

Every now and then, friendship has a red letter day – like a trip to NYC to see Hamilton for example. But the only reason that’s even possible is because of the years and years of regular life and small connections built over coffee dates and Zumba class and long stretches of ordinary time.

3. It’s a wild and wonderful thing to bump into someone and realize it’s you.

If you’ve never felt the shocking, delightful, tender relief of finally feeling like your true self, then this quote might sound strange.

When I heard our friend and teacher Fil say it at an Enneagram workshop we hosted a few weeks back, I nodded and cried.

Coming home can do that to a person. In the presence of God is where we find ourselves. And in the presence of our true self, we finally see God.

4. When it comes to art, we don’t care as much about new; we just want true.

I cried in the car by myself the first time I heard Stay Alive (Reprise) on the Hamilton soundtrack. It’s the part where Alexander and Eliza learn their son Philip was just shot in a duel.

But seeing it acted out, right there in the Rodgers theater on Broadway? Welp. I cried like a b-a-b-y. It was Alexander and Eliza sing-repeating – “I know, I know . . . I know, I know.”

That’s what got me. It didn’t matter that I knew it was going to happen.

It didn’t matter that I have heard the song hundreds of times already.

What mattered was those actors were in it. It wasn’t a new scene to me. But it was a true scene. And that’s why it mattered.

5. If one kid is on a travel team, it’s a commitment for the whole family.

I knew this, but I didn’t know this. One of our girls is on a travel volleyball team this season and it’s equal parts super fun and super overwhelming.

It’s weird the stuff we do for our kids. We set aside our own agenda, our own grief, our own plans and comfort and ideas of what makes a productive weekend and we drive and sit and wait and pack lunches and stand around and carry bags and refill water bottles.

It’s all part of cheering our kids through all their things – wins, losses, and everything in between.

6. My favorite day of Christmas break is December 26.

While I used to dread the day after Christmas, it has officially become one of my favorite days. This year my family was still in town for one more night, we had no agenda but to watch Little Women and eat pizza and finish a wooden puzzle of Florence and have basically the best day ever.

7. I associate seasons in our life with TV shows.

It’s weird, but when I look back at my journals from a few years ago, I like to remember what shows we watched together during a particular season. Here are the shows we’ve watched this winter.

Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee: This is the best. We watch one basically every night.

This Is Us: Will we ever forget the episode after the Super Bowl? No we will not ever.

Stranger Things: We finally watched Season 1 and it took us this long because I was scared. But I stuck it out and it was so good. On to Season 2 now.

Good Witch: This show was our answer to the kids question of “is there a show we can watch together as a family?” It’s cheesy, predictable, no one is having sex or saying cuss words and it has townspeople (kind of). Check.

8. The ending does not get to define the whole story.

January 13, 2018 was the first day in 104 years that the sun rose on a world without John’s grandmother, Budder.

She died last month in a house fire. We believe the Lord was with her in her final moments and received her with tenderness and great joy.

At first the overwhelming sadness of how her life ended was too much – after all these years, a fire? Really? But the truth is, she’s been ready to be with Jesus, her husband, and her oldest son (John’s Dad) for decades now.

She had 104 beautiful, faithful years and one tragic morning that, in the truest reality, was the most glorious of her life.

***

I keep track of what I’m learning by using my seasonal reflection lists. You can get your own printable lists for tracking your reflections by signing up right here. If you’re new around here and want to know what, how, and tools to track what you’re learning, check out A New Page for Your Bullet Journal.

“If your life is a constant blur of activity, focus, and obligation, you are likely to miss critical breakthroughs because you won’t have the benefit of pacing and negative space. What’s not there will impact your life as much or more than what is.”

I do not have power sheets to offer (love those!), an innovative planner to present (though I want to create this one day), or a webinar to teach you about goal-setting (though I’ve attended at least two of those in the last year).

What I do have is time management for your soul.

Most time saving tips focus on your schedule and we need those. But that’s not why you come here.

My self-appointed job in this space is to help you create space for your soul to breathe so that you can discern your next right thing in love.

These tips might not show up on your calendar but they could help on the more invisible level of your soul.

When we are overwhelmed, it’s easy to become distracted and stuck in false starts. It’s the fast-track to decision fatigue and I want to help get you out of it.

It’s counter-intuitive, but what I often need most when I’m in a rush is to slow down. It helps me think better, discern better, and gently take just one next right step instead of tripping over twenty.

Allow me to help you slow for a few moments so that you can pay attention to what’s happening beneath the surface.

This will inform your decisions and in turn, eventually, your schedule as well.

Choose Your Absence

I’m all about being a person of presence. But we can’t be present to everything all the time.

One way to learn to cultivate presence might sound at first, counter intuitive. It’s actually by your absence.

Not your absence from people or responsibility, but absence from the things that are keeping you from your people and your responsibilities.

One thing you could choose your absence from is anything that comes your way disguised as “a great opportunity.”

For many of us the beginning of the year can be a time when we all get high on hope, searching the horizon for what might be next.

Living attentive and paying attention is one of my favorite ways to live, but I’ve discovered if I do it in the wrong order by going outward before I move inward, then I may add to the stress and distraction in my life in ways I never intended to do.

“The biggest deception of our digital age may be the lie that says we can be omni-competent, omni-informed, and omni-present. We must choose our absence, our inability, and our ignorance–and choose wisely.”

Ignore With Intention

If your schedule is already so full that you’re having a hard time even making simple decisions, you probably already recognize the fact that there are a lot of things in your schedule that fall under the column of things you can’t control.

But can we agree that your Instagram feed and your phone notifications are not included in that column?

I mention this because in my season of life right now, the anxiety triggers that cause the most frustration come mostly from a screen either a computer screen like something I read in my email inbox, or on a blog or on Facebook, a TV screen, something I see on the news, or a phone screen like instagram, voxer, or a text message.

For those of us who work online for example like I do, turning off the computer or phone completely isn’t always an option. But there are simple and practical ways to cut down on the low-grade anxiety that is showing up in your feeds and follows.

“The first step to crafting the life you want is getting rid of everything you don’t.”

Find a No Mentor

What do you do when your schedule is full and you have things waiting in the wings? How do you decide your yeses from your nos? Sometimes you can make a list and other times you can sleep on it.

But some decisions you’re too close to and can’t see the better from the best. That’s why you need a No Mentor, someone who will help you say your strong no so that you can be more available for your brave and intentional yeses.

My sister is the original No Mentor (she even coined the phrase for us) and she is a profesh. This doesn’t mean you have to get her to be your No Mentor, though. You can find someone in your own life to do that for you. And eventually, you can learn to be your own.

“May you be blessed with good friends, and learn to be a good friend to yourself, journeying to that place in your soul where there is love, warmth, and feeling. May this change you.”

Embrace Your Limits

There’s something uniquely discouraging about finally knowing what you want to do and where you feel most called only to run into a roadblock. Often these roadblocks present themselves as some kind of limitation – fatigue, heartbreak, time, money, or support.

Instead of fighting those, perhaps your next right thing is to embrace them instead. Because our limits tell us important things about ourselves.

They help us draw lines for margin.

They pave the way for vulnerability.

They show us what we aren’t able to do and that can be just as important as what we are able to do.